The Old Apartment
by Hazel Fae
Summary: A fight between Mark and Roger brings dramatic results, a broken door, a tub of plaster, and much more. Slightly AU cause Angel lives, NOT MARK/ROGER! The dynamic duo is back, yes Toni and Hadassah are writing together again.
1. The Fight

Disclaimer: We don't even own a car, and you expect us to own the greatest musical of all time? Please!

**A/N: This story was inspired by the Barenaked Ladies song, The Old Apartment, which we also don't own. (It's really not our day, is it?) This is Mark/Roger friendship (sorta), and is only Mark/Roger if you put on sunglasses and look at it upside-down. We're back together again, writing as the awesome dynamic duo, hope you enjoy the story!**

The Old Apartment

"Collins, hey, it's me again. I'm getting really worried now, Roger hasn't come back yet, or called, or given any sign that he hasn't fallen off the face of the earth! I'm giving it another hour, then I'm going out to-- never mind, he's back now." A irritated Mark hung up the phone, and turned to face his best friend, who had just came stumbling into the loft, obviously drunk.

"Where have you been? DO you have any idea what time it is?!" Mark exclaimed.

"I was at the Life, and yeah, according to the clock it's five o' three." Roger slurred.

"That's over three hours than when you'd said you would be back, and you're completely hammered!"

"Why are you so worried? Maureen or Collins can come back late or intoxicated, or both, and no one acts like it's a crisis." He retorted.

"Joanne would murder Maureen, and I don't even want to think about what Angel would do to Collins. So don't think you're getting off easy, mister." Mark snapped at the musician.

"You see, there's a difference in the situation here. Maureen and Joanne, as well as Angel and Collins are going out. In case you misunderstand our relationship Mark, we're friends, and that's it." Roger was saying this only to get on Mark's nerves.

"That's beside the point. For all I know you and Mimi could have been using again, and you didn't even call to say that you were going to be late!"

"First off, I'm clean, and have been for the past two years. Second of all, how should I put this, I DON'T HAVE TO REPORT TO YOU!!" Roger was on his feet now.

Mark sprang up, pulling himself up to his full height, which was within an inch of Roger's. "I was about to go out to check the gutters for your body when you stumbled in. I bet you're so wasted you don't even remember my Hebrew name!"

"Uh... Aaron? Right?" Roger was just taking a guess, and did not want to be wrong, for fear of Mark's wrath.

"It's JESSE, you moron!" Mark was about to hit his "stride" and unleash his full fury on his roommate. "We've been best friends since kindergarten, and yet you have no respect for that. You don't even realize that with you addictive tendencies, one dose of smack could send you right back into the throes of your addiction. Don't you even remember who got you through those six months of puking, shaking, fevers, and hallucinations? It was ME! And I'm not prepared to pull you out of that again. And don't even think about pulling the "Why me and not Mimi" card, because I got three calls, two of which were hysterical, from Angel wondering where she was."

"First of all, I really appreciate having friends who care about me, honest. Second, I DON'T HAVE TO REPORT TO THOSE FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT IN CHARGE OF MY LIFE! For goodness sakes Mark, you're acting just like your mother. You're being overprotective, and not allowing people to live their own lives." This emitted a gasp from Mark, which Roger did not notice, for he was already walking towards the apartment door.

"Perhaps why we need to know where you are is because you're IRRESPONSIBLE!" Mark screamed. "I AM NOT ACTING LIKE MY MOTHER, YOU'RE JUST BEING A CARELESS BASTARD!"

Roger was still making progress towards the door, but stopped for a moment to answer back. "I am not being irresponsible, Mark. Now if you'll excuse me from this wonderful little chat, I'm going out." He hissed.

"Where are you going?"

"Out." He said, knowing very well that this was not an acceptable answer.

Mark crossed the apartment and blocked the door. "Where. Are. You. Going.?" He repeated dangerously.

"Now, now Marky, I'm not sure if you're allowed to hold people against their will, there has to be a law against that somewhere. So in all of our best interests, I suggest that you move away from the door."

" Just tell me where you're going, and you can get gone." Mark was springing a line on him from one of his oldest songs, one he had written when Mark was headed off to college.

Roger easily could have told Mark where he was going, but did not want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, he took a powerful swing at Mark's head, who ducked just in time, so Roger's hand landed on the door. Several things happened in the next few moments: Roger's fist went through the door, making a larger, gaping hole, Mark looked up horrified, wondering what would have happened if that blow had landed on target, which happened to be his head, but most notable of all was that Roger shouted "You'll be fixing that, because I no longer live here!" and slamming the now broken door behind him.


	2. Phone Calls

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to post, we seemed to never have a moment where we were together for enough time to actually start writing, please keep reading and reviewing!**

Disclaimer: Just 'cause we're Mark-and-Collins (Hadassah) and Joanne-and-Angel (Toni) incarnates (points for whoever knows what that word means!) , doesn't mean we have any claims to stake for the ownership of the best thing in the universe (chocolate, no wait, I mean RENT).

**Phone Calls**

_I think I'm having a panic attack_, Mark thought. _Let's see: racing heart rate, check. Rapid breathing, check. Inability to think rationally, wait, Joanne is rational. I'll call her, she'll know what to do!_

And so our favorite filmmaker made a call to his new best friend at a quarter to six.

"Joanne Jefferson speaking," the lawyer said groggily as she rolled to a sitting position in her bed that she shared with Maureen. She had no idea of who in their right mind would be calling at this hour, then again, Mark was not exactly in his right mind.

"Jo, Jo, you gotta help me!" Mark's panic attack was in full swing now.

"Okay, what do you need?" Joanne asked soothingly. "Just stay calm, try taking a few deep breaths." The anxiety in her friends voice woke her up immediately.

"Well, Roger came home hammered three hours late, so I told him off, we got in a fight, I swore at him, called him irresponsible, he said I was acting like my mother which I was NOT, and he left to who knows where, but first he punched a hole in my door. I have not a shred of a clue to where he is!" Mark spoke at a Maureen-like rate.

"I'm going to call Mimi and ask her if he's over there. We need to patch up that door with some plaster, but right now the most you can do is go back to bed so that we can deal with this on a good night's sleep. I'll call you when after I call Mimi, okay?" She asked, recognizing the note of hysteria in her friend's voice.

"Okay, thanks, and Jo?" Mark asked.

"Yes?" She sighed.

"Don't tell Roger I called. He already thinks I have no backbone whatsoever," Deep down, Mark knew he a good amount of it, but it took a lot for it to come through.

"I won't, and don't worry, you do have a backbone. I'll come over tomorrow and help you plaster, alright?" She didn't want Mark to have to be alone for very long.

"Okay, g'night Jo."

"Goodnight." Joanne then hung up, a dialed Mimi's number.

"Hello?" She answered the phone with a voice of someone who was woken up very early in the morning,

"Hi Mimi, it's Joanne, is Roger at your place?" Joanne heard an "ow" and a series of expletives on the other end.

"Yeah, he's currently in the bathroom, pulling splinters out of his hand. Apparently he punched through a door. Did you hear about the fight?" she asked Joanne.

"Yes, Mark just called me about it, and he wants to know where Roger is. Just please don't tell Roger that, Mark doesn't want him to know for some reason."

"Honestly, they're more dramatic than a couple of high school girls! Hold on—Roger, I'm on the phone, I'll be in to help you in a minute. Anyway, I think I'm needed elsewhere at the moment, I hope Mark's feeling okay. Bye Joanne." Mimi said, wondering how to get what seemed like three million splinters out of someone's hand painlessly.

"Bye," Joanne said wearily, and prepared to have the third phone conversation that night. Just as she was about to dial Mark's number, the drama queen awoke.

"Pookie, what are you doing up? I want to cuddle, you can leave whatever you're doing 'til morning," Maureen whined.

"I love you too, Momo, but right now I have a bunch of drama to sort out. I'll give you the details tomorrow." She planted a kiss on the diva's nose and tucked her back into bed, and then dialed Mark's number. The phone rang several times, but all she got was the loft's customary "SPEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAK" answering machine.

"Hi Mark, it's Joanne. Just called to say that everything's okay, Roger's at Mimi's, but he does have some nasty splinters. Bye."

**A/N: The drama will heat up soon, so just keep reading! ;) **


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